


Master Storyteller

by pharmtechgirl71



Series: 357 Daryl Jerkin' It Drive [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Has Issues, Daryl needs a real woman, F/M, Masturbation, POV Daryl, Phobic Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pharmtechgirl71/pseuds/pharmtechgirl71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merle comes over for his weekly visit and leaves Daryl with a souvenir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Storyteller

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bella_Monoxide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Monoxide/gifts).



> Okay, this series is inspired by a reply to a comment I received from Bella_Monoxide. She said it would make a great story, and I hope it does. Thank you for the inspirational comment that started all this nonsense. I already have part two written, but would love to hear any suggestions you might have. If there is anything you would like to see, please let me know. I am open to special requests from anybody, just try me. Sorry it is so short, next one is longer. Let me know what ya'll think. I hope this meets your expectations bella! Love you hon!

Master Storyteller

Most people thought he was just plain weird. None of his neighbors ever saw him leave the house, even to go to work. Every now and then, he could be spotted at the mailbox after dark, but that was the extent of his public appearances. The kids on his block would throw things at his house knowing that he wouldn’t come outside and beat their asses. He just waited patiently until after midnight and cleaned up the mess. His psychiatrist, Rick, told him he had agoraphobia; he was scared shitless of the outside world. He had very few people in his life. His brother, Merle would come by at least once a week and bring lunch or dinner for them. They would spend a few hours together talking. Mostly it was Merle regaling him with stories of the women he’d had that week; tales which Daryl hated hearing, but sat through because he loved seeing his brother. Tales he would stew over the rest of the week.  
There was the girl from the grocery store who delivered his food once a week. He would call with his list and the same girl would deliver them the next day. It took him months to feel comfortable with her being in his house. He would have her bring the bags or boxes to the doorstep and then he would carry them inside. He felt he should be more hospitable to her since she was willing to carry his groceries to him every week, but he became frozen with fear by her mere presence. Eventually, he learned to talk to her and he would invite her in to stay and talk while he put the food away.  
He worked from home. He wrote articles for an online hunting magazine. He communicated with his editor, Carol, mostly by email, but there was an occasion where they would speak on the phone. He had been working for them for seven years now and his relationship with Carol was, aside from the one with his brother, the most comfortable he had ever had. She was aware of his condition and the situation that it put him in. She would accommodate him whenever she could. He was her favorite of all their contributors. He never missed a deadline and his articles drew rave reviews from the readers. Daryl had to admit, he didn’t mind those times when he had to communicate with her over the phone. She had a sweet, feminine voice that he could hear in his head hours after they hung up.  
This particular night, Daryl was working on his newest article for Carol, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. Merle had been by earlier with pizza, beer, and stories. One story in particular had stayed in his mind. Merle worked at a garage in town and a significant amount of his stories started there. He cursed Merle for every story he told, but secretly greeted each one of them like a brand new day. This one started with a redheaded college student in her daddy’s Mercedes, and quickly turned into sex at his place that night. Merle was a master storyteller and the images Daryl was left with gave him a perfect picture in his head. Her long, red hair flowing across her shoulders, her tits peeking out from her tank, her slim waist and tight ass were the only things Daryl could think of. He soon abandoned his laptop and retired to his bedroom.  
He sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated what to do. He rarely, if ever, second-guessed his need to jerk off, but tonight he was feeling a little sad about it. He knew he would never have more than that. He would never date a woman, never have a relationship with a woman, or get a chance to touch a woman. His condition was something he had learned to accept. In many ways, he was grateful for his fear because it meant that he would always be safe inside his own home, but there were many times lately when he just felt lonely.   
The more he saw the red head in his mind, the more aroused he became. He stood up and shucked off his clothes. Grabbing the bottle of lotion he kept in the nightstand, he lay on his back in the center of his bed. He thought about how her long, silky hair would feel draped across his skin and took hold of himself. He imagined the way her tits felt pressed against his chest. He began pumping himself slowly, wanting to savor his fantasy. He heard her soft voice in his ear telling him how wet he made her, how much she wanted to touch him and be touched by him. He head was swimming. He felt her hands on his body and her warm breath on the tip of his cock. He felt the warm heat of her mouth engulf him completely. He began pumping himself faster, the buildup to his orgasm driving him wild. He saw her red head bouncing up and down as she licked and sucked him. His hips left the mattress as he unleashed himself with a shout. He lay on the bed, not moving, only trying to catch his breath. After about ten or fifteen minutes, he got up and went into the bathroom to clean himself off. He climbed into bed and turned off the bedside lamp before pulling the sheets over his still naked body. His only coherent thought before drifting off to sleep being, “Goddamn Merle and his stories.”


End file.
